The speaker goes for a walk with a watch in hand, measuring distances in minutes rather than miles. It's an odd, quietly funny image: someone checking the clock, yet clearly not in a hurry. The second stanza makes that plain. Running, the speaker says, "saves nothing," so there's no point rushing. Instead the poem slows down to notice small things: wind moving into the forest, a few pigeons.
The last lines turn inward. Walking, the speaker finds the body "where it is," which suggests simply being present in it, without judgment. The body is "all stomach," a blunt, almost comic phrase, but with "no sense of the word fat." The usual shame or self-criticism drops away, and the body is just a body.
The mood is calm, plain, and gently humorous. Nothing dramatic happens, and that's the point: walking becomes a way to settle into time, place, and oneself.